The Program
No witness is protected.
Some who see
drop from sight.
Others remain visible
but go blind or mad.
You may be confined to your house,
the stainless kitchen waiting
with sharp edges, your sleep broken by rats
gnawing in bedroom walls.
You may retire to a rotting climate,
a corrupt latitude of rainy afternoons
and thick starless nights.
Weeks may pass, or years,
before you are called.
Or the call may never come.
But each time the telephone rings
you will remember
what you saw.
You will close your eyes
and answer.
by Stephen Bunch
from Autumn Sky Poetry Number 1, March 2006
Photo by Christine Klocek-Lim
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